


A pattern of concern

by DracoIgnis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crime, Detectives, F/M, Jonerys, Nordic Noir - Freeform, Police officers, Serial Killer, Short Story, scandi noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 17:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20979809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: Jon and Daenerys are detectives working on the case of a serial killer. Will they be able to track down the next victim in time? A Jonerys AU short story with original artwork.





	A pattern of concern

..

As Daenerys arrived at the police station, she shrugged off her wet coat and sighed: “Who’s been murdered now?”

The rain was hammering down the streets of Copenhagen. The city had been clad in dark clouds for over a week now. Even the persistent charity workers had ditched their sign-off sheets and retreated into the cafes, sipping cappuccinos whilst keeping a keen eye on the weather forecast.

Jon couldn’t say he missed being harassed on his way to work. It was always the same snooty twenty-something-year old guy who insisted on walking him from the bike racks to the station door, giving him a new spiel every day. He seemed determined to make Jon feel guilty; for eating meat, for drinking alcohol, for _breathing_ _air._ That morning, however, Jon had spotted him chucking down beer on the steps to the Central Station. He’d taken a certain pleasure in greeting him on his way past.

Jon looked up from his laptop and nodded at her. “What time do you call this?” he joked. Truth be told, he’d been so engrossed in the news that he’d scarcely noticed she was late. As she pinned up her hair, he clicked away from the online article: ‘Karl Tanner - A Human Trafficker?’

Daenerys pulled out her mobile with a serious expression. “I call it three minutes past nine. Why?”

Jon growled: “Never mind.” He leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms above his head, and sighed. “I think it’s another one. The man’s back in the game.”

“Or woman,” Daenerys reminded him. “We can’t assume the gender just yet.” She snatched a blue marker off his desk as she walked to the board. “Right, what do we know?”

Jon grabbed his mug of coffee and had a slow sip of the brew as he watched the board, thinking: _ We know fuck all. _

There had been three victims so far, four including the newest body should the murder turn out to be connected. All were men of status, all were men of crime. As Jon’s gaze slipped across their pinned pictures, he remembered scraps of information about each of them:

  1. Meryn Trant: A man who always made the glossy papers although only in the shadow of a celebrity. He was a favoured bodyguard to the rich. At first, known only for his loyalty. Then later, known only for his deranged affection toward children. He was found with stab-wounds to his eyes and chest.  

  2. Joffrey Baratheon. Rich kid Instagram influencer. He was raised to take over his grandfather’s company, but spent all of his time torturing sex workers on his private yacht. The day before his marriage to famed vegan Youtuber Margaery Tyrell, he was found dead from poisoning.  

  3. Ramsay Bolton. A self-proclaimed guru. At first, the media loved his theories on human nature, and an award winning documentary followed him teaching groups of teens his beliefs. Later, it emerged that he used his cult-status to humiliate, abuse, and even kill his followers. He was found torn to pieces by a pack of dogs, his scraps scarcely recognisable.

“And then there’s Craster,” Jon read out aloud from his laptop screen, Daenerys’ hand swiftly copying everything he said onto the whiteboard, “who became a beloved hero after he gave shelter to a group of illegal immigrants on their way up north. He was found with his throat slit.”

Daenerys paused. “And his crime?”

Jon sighed, rubbing his forehead in disbelief as he read: “He raped his own daughters.”

“Fucking hell.” Daenerys wrote it down, popped the lid on the marker, and then stepped back to take in the board. “Well, just another cog in the machine, it seems.”

Four victims. Four wildly different deaths. Jon rested his head between his hands as he glanced from the victim information to the map of Copenhagen. They had all been murdered within the city; big red circles had been drawn around the areas of discovery. Even there he found no connection: Meryn had been dumped on Istedgade just outside a pornshop, Joffrey was found on the steps to the Cathedral, whilst Ramsay’s body was scattered all over the Deer Park.

“Time of death?” Daenerys asked.

Jon clicked down the report and shook his head. “No specific time,” he said. “Just the morning of the 8th of March.”

Daenerys laughed. “Obviously, whoever is doing this has a sense of humour,” she said. As Jon gave her a puzzled look, she explained: “_International Women’s Day._”

“Ahh,” Jon nodded and pointed to the board. “Write it down.”

As Daenerys’ scribbled, she pondered out loud: “I wonder if our serial killer is a person of justice.”

“Presumed justice,” Jon said and had another sip of his coffee. “They clearly enjoy making their own judgements.”

“Can you not find it in your heart to judge a man who raped his own daughters?” Daenerys asked.

Jon grimaced. “I’d slit his throat myself,” he said with a serious tone of voice before his scowl melted away. “But that’s why I’m not a judge. Objectivity has never been my strong suit.” He thought back on the snooty kid on the steps to the Central Station, gulping down beer the day after telling Jon off for smelling of whiskey. _ I’d have him jailed for impertinence, _ Jon thought, _ if I had the power. _ He closed down the lid of his laptop as he stood up. “Daenerys, I’m still not sure-”

“You don’t believe it to be a serial killer,” Daenerys said and rolled her eyes. “Jon, I’ve heard it again and again. But all the signs are there.”

“Please do enlighten me.” Jon popped his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he walked closer to the board. Standing next to her, it looked even messier than from far away; newspaper cut-outs, quotes from friends of the victim, descriptions of their families, pictures of the crime scenes.

“I believe we’re dealing with someone on a mission,” Daenerys said, holding her fist to her chin as she pondered out loud. “I believe they want to shame their victims, even in death. Look at this - Meryn is a sexual deviant, so he’s dumped in front of a porn shop. Joffrey is about to marry as a pure man, so his dirtied body is displayed in front of a church.”

“And Ramsay liked hunting his followers like animals, so of course he ended up in the Deer Park,” Jon spoke tired, “_I know. _ But that doesn’t mean we’re dealing with a single killer.” He rubbed his temples as he glanced at the description of Craster once more, hoping something would jump out at him.

Daenerys sighed and seated herself on the edge of his desk, throwing her arms out. “Then, what do you want us to do, Jon? Start over?” She raised her brows. “You know, I had to sell the theory of the serial killer to our boss to get enough people on this case. If we change direction now, we don’t just risk looking like idiots. We risk the jobs of _ others. _ Missandei has been working _ tirelessly _ trying to get as much information as possible about these victims. Grey has collected and reviewed _ hours _ of surveillance footage. Don’t even get me _ started _ on Sansa’s interviews.”

“I won’t,” Jon promised hurriedly at the mention of his sister. Sansa was never meant to be part of their team, but at Daenerys’ plea, she had been assigned to deal with the victims’ families. She was the person in the station with the best interpersonal skills, that he couldn’t deny. But, undeniably, chatting to his sister about rapists and paedophiles also weirded him out.

“Without these people, we would have access to _ far less _ information,” Daenerys reminded him, biting the nail of her thumb as she glanced at the board again. “We would no longer be a step ahead.”

Jon shook his head sadly. “Sorry,” he finally spoke. “I want to believe, I really do. I’m just concerned if we’ve been looking at things wrongly.”

As Daenerys didn’t speak, he sighed and seated himself next to her on the edge of the desk.

“Daenerys,” he said, “please don’t be mad at me.” Silence. He finally looked up at her face, expecting her to be seething with annoyance, but instead she was staring palely at the board. “Dany?”

“That’s it,” she whispered, her eyes glimmering. As Jon parted his lips to speak, she suddenly cried out: “That’s it!”

Jon blinked as she jumped from the table, grabbed the marker and once again started scribbling. “Uh, what’s what?” he asked and scratched his neck. Once she stepped back from the board, it looked even messier than before.

“We _ have _ been looking at things wrongly,” she said excitedly. “We’ve been looking at them as individual pieces, but there’s a pattern. Oh God, and it’s _ so obvious. _”

Jon cocked his head as he scratched the other side of his neck, his eyes still confused. “You have to make it clearer for me,” he said.

“Meryn was a bodyguard to the rich,” Daenerys said, starting a line at this name which carried on to Joffrey, “and Joffrey was a well to do kid who used his services. With his interest in sex workers-”

“-he probably provided for Meryn.” Jon nodded as he started catching on. “But how does Ramsay fit in there?”

Daenerys drew a line from Joffrey to Ramsay. “Joffrey’s company sponsored the documentary on Ramsay’s affairs. He clearly wanted to benefit from the money the cult made.” She held the pen to her lips as she furrowed her brows. “But Craster…”

“All of Craster’s daughters were forced to live at home, loving only him. Giving birth to his children.” Jon licked his lips and nodded, the excitement filling him too. “He basically modelled his life off of Ramsay’s cult.” Jon turned to grab his laptop as he started browsing their files. “Did he not attend one of his talks, too?”

“_Excellent._” Daenerys dragged a line from Ramsay to Craster, but that’s when she paused once more. “Now the question is…”

“...who is next?” They looked at each other, the silence filling the room only for a second as their eyes searched the screen of Jon’s laptop, and they spoke at once:

“_Karl Tanner._”

* * *

Karl Tanner. Akin Craster, he was the nation’s sweetheart at first. Known to have exposed the vile man’s act, people soon flocked to him, praising him for his decisiveness in freeing the girls from their father’s wrath.

However, new evidence proved he may have been a bit more involved with the girls than he liked to let on.

_ He fucked them, _ Jon thought to himself as he sat in his car, reading the file on the man. _ He impregnated two of them and blamed it all on Craster. Then he sold them off under the pretence of safety. _ He sighed, leaning back in his chair as he wondered: _ When did the world get so evil? _

It was in the midst of the night. Jon was parked in a dark alley, preparing for a night of action. He was wearing his bulletproof vest, the gun at his belt was loaded, and his clothes were all black to ensure he could walk the streets in stealth.

Once Daenerys and he had brought Karl Tanner to the attention of their boss, manpower was pulled in. All over north of Copenhagen, unmarked police cars were patrolling the streets, hundreds of men keeping their eye out for the notorious serial killer.

Jon glanced at the radio clock and swore, throwing the file to the backseat with a groan. _ Daenerys is late, _ he thought. _ As usual. _

It was then that he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. He sat perfectly still, pretending to be playing with his radio, but his glance was seeking the moving shadows in the alley. _ Someone _ was approaching.

_ Keep calm _ , he told himself, his free hand slipping to his gun. His fingertips closed around the cold metal, and he swallowed. _ Keep calm. Keep calm. _

The shadow stopped moving. For a moment, it seemed he was being watched, and he licked his lips, his heartbeat quickening. He was preparing his body to fight when the person pulled the black hood of their face and revealed themselves to be -

“Daenerys?” Jon rolled down his window with a smile. “What time do you call this?”

Daenerys, clad in all black, slowly walked to the driver side window as she pulled out her mobile. She checked the time. “I call it five to four in the morning.” She cocked her head to the side. “So, I hear our men are stationed all over the north?”

“Yep,” Jon nodded. “They’ll be making sure no harm come of Karl.”

“Good.” Daenerys pulled her hood back down, covering her face. Only her violet eyes glimmered in the darkness. “Petyr won’t suspect a thing.”

“Ready?” Jon asked, stepping out into the alley. He breathed in the cool evening air, enjoying the breezy part of southern Copenhagen.

Daenerys flashed her gun and winked. “Can’t wait.”

Petyr Baelish. Known trafficker. Jon had had his eyes on him for a while. He knew he was involved in sending Craster’s daughters abroad whenever they got pregnant, ensuring they would give birth out of the eye of the public before sending them back to Craster for more breeding. With all the focus on Karl, he was sure he wasn’t suspecting a thing, and killing him would be an easy, pleasurable task.

“Alright then,” Jon said, flashing his gun. “Let’s go kill some more bad guys.”

**Author's Note:**

> OK not as in depth as I normally write, but I just wanted to do a quick, fun drabble kind of reflecting the nordic noir crime genre. Hope it was readable? Thanks to DragonandDirewolf for the amazing artwork - Daenerys is surely rocking that scandi jumper!


End file.
